


if you are not too long

by Aslee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Secret Samol 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aslee/pseuds/Aslee
Summary: "Behold," Calhoun said, shouting up to the absence of stars. "A world of things Fero Feritas has doomed."





	if you are not too long

**Author's Note:**

> a Secret Samol for @haidee_samuels on twitter!

There was no snow. 

The sky above Fero was a clear, true blue, the kind that had disappeared under the steel gray of the cold. He had missed it; A creature of the field and mountain as he was, it had been disturbing to see it gone for so long. Missing the sky had been like losing a sister, and Fero's heart grew lighter for having seen it.

He took a hesitant step forward-- The ground crunched beneath his bare feet, but it was not the harsh sound of stomping through the snow. This was sand, and it sang a gentler song. 

Fero looked down, grinning, ready to see the sand squish between his toes for the first time in months- 

-and felt his stomach drop to his knees. 

(It was not, as far as knees go, a very far drop.) 

Fero knew this sand. More importantly, he had been this sand. 

Reality cracked through the warmth on his skin, colder than any winter. He could not be here. More importantly, this beach could not be here. The Heat and the Dark had taken it. 

Fero whirled around, his muscles still knowing exactly where his childhood home should be, but not even the sickly purple-black of the Heat and the Dark marked Rosemerrow's existence. Instead, there was nothing but miles of sand in front of him, and in the distance, the hazy ivory glimmer of Nacre's towers. 

Somewhere, a lonely howl echoed through the dunes, and then-- 

"Fero Feritas."

He took a moment to consider his options. Not turning around, Fero ventured a question: "Am I dead?" 

The voice was full of laughter. "I'm afraid you don't get to give up that easily, my friend." 

"Oh." Fero turned to Angelo Triste with a crooked grin. "Been a while, Angie." 

Angelo looked much as be had when Fero had last seen him on the deck of that ship-- His shoulders straight and his broad, handsome face serious. Even the outfit was the same, the high-necked jacket of a Velasian merchant flattering his jawline, though the fabric was now crisper and cleaner than Fero could recall ever seeing it before. 

The only difference was, while in life Angelo had kept his braids piled high on the top of his head, the now hung loose beyond his shoulders. At the end hung little white beads, and when Fero peered at them, he realised they were pearls and bone. 

"I'd hoped seeing you would mean I could be Calhoun again," his captain said, and Fero… 

Well, despite his best efforts, Fero was still a halfling. He knew how much difference a name could make. 

"Captain Calhoun," Fero agreed, easily. "What brings you here? …. Wherever we are."

"Well, Feritas, I don't know if you noticed, but the world is falling apart." 

"Oh, is that what that big purple thing was?" 

They grinned together for a moment, and Ang-- Calhoun shrugged. "Between reality crumbling and my sister's machinations, the boundaries have never been so thin. I wanted to…." His laugh was a helpless thing. "I wanted to speak again, and I thought you would listen."

The sand shifted under their feet, but there was no wind. Just them, the sand, and the wolves. 

Fero shivered, despite the warmth. "Well, I have to admit, it's quite a place you've invented for yourself, here." 

Calhoun shot him a strange look. "This is not my work, Fero." 

"Wha--" 

The sigh that fell from Calhoun's mouth was one Fero was getting tired of hearing; It always meant he was being too much of something, too much to handle and too useless to put up with it. The pity in Calhoun's eyes, however, was worse. 

"It's yours. Behold," Calhoun said, shouting up to the absence of stars. "A world of things Fero Feritas has doomed." 

"Holy shit." 

"I agree." Calhoun sent Fero a grin that glimmered with a sick pride. "You've been very busy since I… left." 

Fero scoffed, but the noise was choked around his own guilt. It was the shame that amplified his disgust, and it turned everything he hated about himself into spitting her name.

"You mean when Hella killed you?"

Calhoun's mouth tightened. "I don't want to talk about death anymore, Fero. I don't have long. Just… talk to me about living. Please."

Truth was, Fero didn't know much about death. Sure, Nacre had enlightened him a little, but the only person he'd known who actually died there was Hella, and she had been reticent, to say the least. All Fero had was a hazy idea of an afterlife, with a Triste sitting beautiful and cold on the throne. 

It had to be lonely. 

Calhoun was probably used to loneliness, a liar in a foreign land, but Fero took pity. 

He was a liar, too. 

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Rosemerrow. You saw my home. Show me yours." 

There was a lot to go over, but Calhoun listened to all of it. He delighted in the shenanigans of the museum heist, laughing fondly at Fero's descriptions of Ephrim and Mother Glory, and thrilled at the intrigue of the underground city and its werewolves. The "murder" was an awkward tale, with Fero careful to cut any mention of Hella or the Curse from his rendition. He almost couldn't give it an end, Mother Glory's name sticking in his throat. 

Calhoun's hand cupped the back of Fero's neck gently, his fingers pressing into the tendons just enough to send a shiver down Fero's spine. 

"Hey." Calhoun's voice, low and intimate, was starting to lapse into Angelo again. The foreign lilt to his vowels was strangely comforting; it allowed a distance that Fero desperately needed. The man shook the halfling slightly. His smile was too gentle, and Fero closed his eyes to the kindness. "Do not let your shame divert your gaze. You are a proud man, and I would see you walk so." 

"I couldn't help her. I can't help anyone. I should have stayed." 

"It wouldn't have helped in the end. You know this." 

"No. But I could have died a good man." 

Calhoun's hand dropped. "Take it from someone who stopped running: Death does not care." 

Fero didn't open his eyes. "Are you, like, mad that I helped her after?" 

When he opened his eyes, Calhoun was smiling down at him, but it was a bitter thing. "Do you blame me for the curse?" 

"What? No! Of course not, that was Hella and me, it was always Hella and me and fucking Lem--" 

"Fero. They were always going to find me. You were always going to lose me. I've made my peace with that. Not with her, but… I don't blame you. I especially don't blame you for my sister's machinations."

"I'd blame me." 

Calhoun laughed, the first ounce of humour finally filtering into his voice. "Yes, we do share that tendency." 

"Why does this shit keep happening to us? Why can't it be some other asshole's job to die?" 

"My sister works in mysterious ways." Calhoun sighed. "The gods have their plans, and sometimes, they fall through." 

"Ugh," Fero groaned. "I'm gonna kick your sister's ass." 

"Oh, please do. My efforts in the sibling rivalry are rather lacking lately. I could use the help." 

Fero stalled. "If I find her… could she bring you back?" 

"It's been too long for the curse, Fero. My body--" 

"No, come on, don't-- You have ghosts and bullshit! She could totally bring you back."

"I--" Calhoun pressed his head to the top of Fero's head, his fingers digging into the curls there. His fingers were cold, Fero thought vaguely, but he allowed the touch. "I am not entirely sure that I deserve it." 

"Oh, shut up. No one deserves anything. I'm bringing you back, asshole." 

Calhoun looked down, a smile forming on his face. "If anyone could do it, it would be you." 

The sky flashed above them, and Calhoun spared it just a glance. Fero, however, found himself overcome with anxiety. 

"Uh, I'm pretty sure that I never destroyed lightning." 

"The tear is trying to mend itself," Calhoun said, eyes distant. 

"What, no--" Fero grabbed Calhoun's sleeve. "You've been here like fifteen minutes, I--" 

"Soon, Fero. You'll see me soon."

And Fero woke, the echo of cold lips lingering on his forehead.


End file.
